


Name of the Game

by Mistflyer1102



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Poker Nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-08-27 12:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16702579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: In order to win the game, one must not speak the name.





	1. Chapter 1

The front doorbell rang the same moment the oven timer began to chime.

“Bloody—please wait!” Q shouted towards the front door as he made his way to the kitchen, a startled Missy scrambling off the sofa as Toby, a black and white kitten that Q had found near the Tube a few weeks ago, tripped over his own paws in his rush to the front door. Q glanced at the kitchen clock as he turned the oven timer off, and softly swore to himself. “Goddamnit, why do you _always_ arrive so bloody early? There’s no need to flaunt the fact that you get the weekend off and I don’t,” he muttered under his breath as he pulled out a tray of puff pastry pizza bites and set it on top of the stove.

Turning the oven off, Q wiped his hands with a dishtowel before heading back to the living room, pausing long enough to scoop up a wriggling Toby and tuck the kitten in his arm. Then he adjusted his glasses before he glanced through the peephole, stifling a sigh when he confirmed his visitor. “Ten minutes early, why am I not surprised?” he muttered to himself as he unlocked the front door. “Lucky you, you get to help me set up for tonight,” he said as he opened the door, tilting his head when his visitor shrugged a shoulder.

“Lucky me, I get first pickings at the delightful nibbles I can smell from here,” Doctor O’Reilly said, sweeping into the flat when Q gestured for him to enter. The Chief Medical Officer for MI6 pulled his coat off as Q closed the door behind him. “I take it then, that double-oh seven isn’t home from Nicaragua yet?” he asked, scanning the flat as Q set Toby back down on the ground. “He didn’t show up at my office at all today to either check in or steal his ring back.”

“No, I would have canceled our plans for tonight if he was home,” Q replied, waving a hand towards the kitchen. “And the pastries _just_ came out of the oven, please don’t burn your mouth. I don’t want to have to tell M that you’re absent from work because _you_ had to go to the A&E for severe burns,” he said as O’Reilly promptly headed for the kitchen after tossing his coat onto the sofa.

O’Reilly waved an impatient hand over his shoulder. “That only happened once, and only because Tanner didn’t warn me that the pepper dish was actually spicy.”

Q snorted, but didn’t argue further. He and O’Reilly had become friends when Q was still R, and their friendship had strengthened over the years. Recently, Q had kept O’Reilly from doing something rash after the Pepper Incident, and O’Reilly returned the favor a few hours later when Tanner soundly defeated Q at their last poker game. O’Reilly even spared Q potential further humiliation by dropping Q off at home later that evening, leaving Q to sulk in privacy with a bemused husband.

At the time, Q couldn’t explain the problem to James—and still couldn’t, now that he thought about it—and instead had to settle for venting to O’Reilly the following Monday at work…and strategizing for his revenge.

Then James had to go off mission to chase Marco Sciarra. The resulting fall out indefinitely postponed the next game.

Until tonight.

Q was pulling his folding table out of the study when O’Reilly emerged from the kitchen with Toby in one hand and a small paper plate with puff pastries in the other. “I heard today from Eve that double-oh six tried to charm his way out of a psychiatric appointment last week, something about having a prior obligation that he simply couldn’t miss,” he said, Q only half-listening as he pushed the coffee table to the side of the living room. “Doctor Swann gave him the usual warning that he’ll be put on indefinite medical leave if he didn’t comply with regulations and attend his appointments. I have yet to hear how that particular stalemate ended, especially since I warned her that double-ohs tend to go on ‘vacations’ to known trouble spots while on leave,” O’Reilly added as Q dragged the folding table into the middle of his living room.

“She emailed me yesterday morning to ask if I could revoke all of Trevelyan’s known passports until he was off medical leave. I told her I revoked all the passport numbers and flagged them, including the ones that he doesn’t know that I know about,” Q said, as he headed back to the kitchen to pull out various kitchen glasses out of the cupboard. “Speaking of Doctor Swann, how is she settling in?” he asked carefully, fully aware that Madeleine Swann hadn’t been completely pleased with M’s offer—employment in exchange for protection from, and information on, those still loyal to Ernest Blofeld—but she had accepted it regardless. He carefully balanced the handful of glasses before setting them all down on the table, distributing them in a loose circle around the table.

O’Reilly hummed thoughtfully as he set Toby on the sofa and pulled the armchair to his usual spot to Q’s left. “I think she’s doing all right, she tends to have lunch with us in Medical twice a week. Eve convinced her to join us for the game tonight.”

Q nodded in acknowledgement as he turned around in place, momentarily at a loss of where he’d put the folding the chairs after he’d moved them out of the study earlier that morning. “The more the merrier. If she has cat allergies, I can move Missy and Toby to the bedroom for tonight.” James wouldn’t be pleased—Missy always left fur on his pillow—but Q figured he could clean it up before James got home. He spotted the chairs leaning against the wall next to the television, and began dragging them over to the table. “Oh, and before I forget, Mark Rushman from HR said he couldn’t make it tonight, something about a last minute in-law obligation.”

O’Reilly snorted, leaning back in the armchair as Q finished setting up the chairs. “Good bloody riddance, I’ve got several months worth of complaints about those inept fools in his department,” he grumbled as Q finally sat down next to him. “Did you know that not only did they put Miller on _my_ department’s payroll for this fiscal year, but they also got my paperwork misfiled in the psychiatry division? As much as I appreciate the sudden addition to my skillset with the same amount of education, there are so many double-oh agents I can handle in one week before murder becomes an attractive possibility.”

“I’m sure the agents think of us in the same way,” Q said dryly, standing up when he heard a familiar rapid-fire knocking on the front door. “And that there be Eve. And please check to make sure that I pulled enough chairs out,” he said, scooping Missy up as she tried to dart between his legs.

O’Reilly made a few grumbling noises under his breath as Q went to the door. When he opened it, he grinned when he saw Eve standing there, holding a covered plate with one hand and a wrapped deck of cards in the other. He caught sight of Madeleine Swann behind her, and inclined his head in greeting. “Eve, Madeleine, good to see you both, you’re just in time. O’Reilly hasn’t had a chance to eat everything yet,” he said, stepping back to let the women past him. Missy took that moment to jump from his arms and disappear down the hall into the flat again.

“I do _not_ eat everything!” O’Reilly snapped indignantly from the kitchen.

“Oh yeah? What about the stuffed peppers from last time? Those bite-sized quiche things from the time before that? The mocha truffles before _those_?” Eve said, grinning as O’Reilly shuffled out of the kitchen, shoulders hunched forward.

“Isolated incidents!”

Q fought back a smile as he glanced at Madeleine. “He does this every time since he manages to get to the host’s place before the rest of us,” he said when she glanced at him. “May I take your coat?”

“Oh, thank you,” she said softly, apprehension still visible in her eyes as she slipped off her own coat. Eve had tossed hers onto the sofa on top of O’Reilly’s, but Q took Madeleine’s and hung it up on the rack next to his. He turned in time to see Madeleine kneeling slightly to scratch behind Toby’s ears, the kitten purring before it flopped over onto the throw pillow, paws curled slightly and belly facing up. “How old is your cat?” she asked, glancing up as Q walked past her to take Eve’s plate to the table.

“Toby is almost one, Missy is nine. That’s Toby, he’s the more friendly one between the two of them,” Q said, scowling at O’Reilly as the latter came in with Eve right behind him: O’Reilly was carrying a wineglass and a bottle of red wine that he evidently found in the back of the cupboard above the stove. Q turned back to Madeleine and said, “If you have cat allergies, I can move them and quickly clean—”

His voice trailed off when she shook her head. “No allergies, I had a cat when I was younger,” she said, gently picking Toby up and carrying him to one of the chairs, apparently not worried about getting fur on her dress. “James mentioned that one of your cats was possessed, but Toby seems to be sweet,” she said, glancing up at Q even as Toby’s purring grew louder.

Q snorted as he shook his head. “He was referring to Missy, they had a rocky start,” he said as he started to turn to check the number of chairs at the table.

“Hey, Q.”

Q looked up in time to see Eve toss him the wrapped deck of cards. “Oof—Eve, a little warning next time will go a long way,” he said, grimacing at the residual sting in his hands from the force of the impact from the cards landing in his hands. “Who is the dealer tonight?”

“Tanner, he won last time. So if there was ever a perfect time to get revenge for last time, tonight would be it,” Eve said, raising a brow as Q fumbled with the plastic-wrapped deck. “And since Bond is still knocking about in Nicaragua—”

“With a nice chunk of Q-Branch budget,” Q muttered under his breath.

“—Casey from Treasury wanted to pitch a new budget idea to you, something to have under the table along with the Double-Oh Emergency Fund,” Eve finished as Q finally set the deck of cards on Tanner’s place at the table.

“Double-Oh Emergency Fund?” Madeleine asked, brows knitting together when Eve and Q turned to face her.

“A special fund set aside for the use of any department that suffers unexpected financial setbacks due to the direct actions of a double-oh agent,” Eve replied, smirking when Madeleine raised an eyebrow. “The fund survives primarily on donations, and if M docks anyone’s pay for some reason, the docked money goes straight into the fund.” She turned back to Q and said, “Casey is thinking of a special fund meant only for Q-Branch’s use because she wants to reduce the strain that you and O’Reilly put on the primary fund.”

Q frowned. “Does M know?”

Eve shrugged. “It might be one of those things he finds out about _after_ his monthly meeting with the Ministry of the Treasury.”

O’Reilly sniffed in disdain as he sat down in his armchair. “So Q gets a special stash and I don’t?” he asked irritably as he put the bottle down, jumping slightly when they heard a few knocks on the door.

Q turned in time to see Casey Marshall walk in, brunette hair bunched around her jacket collar and cheeks pink from the cold outside. “Heard you whining outside,” she said to O’Reilly, who scowled. “Anyway, we calculated the numbers and determined that Q-Branch burns through the emergency fund faster than any other department in MI6,” she said cheerfully as she hung her coat up next to Madeleine’s, draping her scarf on top of it a moment later. She inclined her head towards Q. “Quartermaster,” she greeted before turning to Eve with a mock scowl. “I can’t believe you just ditched me in the car park like that!” she said, waving her hand in the direction of the door.

Eve shrugged. “I saw Tanner’s car a few cars behind us, and I panicked. Miller said he was coming with Tanner, so that leaves Mark…” she began, but paused when Q shook his head.

“Mark couldn’t come tonight, prior obligations. Once Tanner and Miller get here, we can start,” Q said as he pulled out a few plates from their shelf. Setting them on the coffee table, he set the few plates of nibbles out next to the stack. He glanced at Madeleine as he straightened, and then said, “Did you already eat dinner? I can order some takeaway--”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. I ate before coming here,” she said, shifting a purring Toby to one arm as she walked over to the coffee table. Collecting a few food items, she carried her plate back to the card table, sitting down next to Eve. “I do have a question, though. Eve mentioned something about extra rules in addition the regular poker rules?” she asked, turning to Q as he sat down on her other side.

Q stifled a sigh as O’Reilly adjusted the armchair on his other side. “Right, those rules. Well, to ease any fears, I’m telling you right now that we’re _not_ playing strip poker. Rather, the rules are designed to cut back on the level of complaining about James Bond, and provide incentive to actually follow those rules,” he said, not missing Madeleine’s confused expression. “When we started meeting to play cards together a few months ago, all we did was vent about the embodiment of frustration that is double-oh seven,” he explained, leaning forward on the table.

“Took us about three or four games to get annoyed with ourselves. So we decided to make a concentrated effort _not_ to talk about him,” O’Reilly cut in, making a face when Casey snorted in amusement as she settled in the chair next to him. “The problem was that no matter what we talked about, the conversation always led back to Bond. So we came up with a list of words that you couldn’t use. Like ‘double-oh seven’, ‘James’, ‘Bond’, ‘Seven’, ‘Agent’—”

“ ‘Pest’,” Q added, leaning back in his chair with a faint grin as Eve settled down on Madeleine’s other side. He opened his mouth to add another word, but a familiar, sharp _‘knock-knock’_ caught his attention. He sighed, ignoring Casey’s suppressed giggles. “Door’s unlocked, Tanner, I’m surprised you even bothered this time,” he said, leaning back in his chair as Tanner entered the flat with Doctor Miller right behind him.

“Once you’ve had at least one gun pointed at your face from entering uninvited and unannounced, caution is always a good idea,” Tanner replied cheerfully as Miller closed the door behind them. He inclined his head and said, “Doctor Swann, it is good to see you tonight.”

Madeleine nodded with a faint smile as O’Reilly muttered something under his breath. “You’re almost late, Tanner. We were just explaining the new rules to Madeleine,” O’Reilly said, scowling when Tanner shrugged a shoulder. “You’re extremely lucky we need a dealer tonight,” O’Reilly said, barely keeping his irritation under control.

“Yes, well, you know how traffic is on a Saturday night. And Q, R wanted me to tell you that they have a reason to believe that Bond separated himself from his tracker again. Q-Branch has had no certainty of his location for roughly the last twelve hours,” Tanner said, draping his coat on top of the pile already forming on the couch. Miller started to claim the last empty hook on the coat rack, seemed to reconsider his decision, and then draped his coat on top of Tanner’s. Then he leaned back to lock the front door.

Q stared at Tanner. “How—why didn’t R tell me that this morning when I was still in?” he asked as Tanner walked over to the card table, claiming the empty spot on Eve’s other side. Miller had drifted to the coffee table, so Q knew he wouldn’t be at the card table for another few minutes.

“Because they figured it out in the last thirty minutes. R said he’d text both of us once they were absolutely sure that Bond resurfaced,” Tanner said, picking up the wrapped deck of cards and starting to pick at one of the tabs. “He also said they would monitor for unexplained explosions, since they don’t even have confirmation of mission completion from Bond,” he added almost as an afterthought.

Q closed his eyes, trying to bring his annoyance under control again.

A soft cough caught his attention. “Does that mean we should not play here tonight, if there’s a chance that Bond could show up?” Casey asked, glancing between Q and Tanner.

Q shook his head. “We’re still playing. We’ll just keep an eye on our mobiles and clear out once we know that Bond’s landed in Heathrow. Besides, there’s always a chance that he’ll track down Trevelyan to find trouble in London or actually go to Medical first for once. Plenty of checkpoints for us,” he said, pointing to the empty chair between Casey and Tanner when Miller paused, a plate in hand. “Tanner, Eve brought those cards,” he said as Eve waved to him with a grin. “You won last time, you’re the dealer tonight.”

“And what a glorious victory it was,” Tanner said, grinning unapologetically as Q made a face at him.

Q turned back to Madeleine, waiting for Miller to sit down before continuing. “Anyway, the rest of the extra rules are simple. Casey maintains the list of forbidden words: use any of the words on the list…” he said, gesturing to Casey, who had picked up her purse to pull out two sheets of notebook paper with lists on either side. “And you lose the ‘name game’,” he said, reaching for the lists as Casey pushed it across the table. “Loser has to buy a round of drinks for everyone, and host the next poker game.”

“So since we’re at your flat…”

“I lost the game last time. Got caught up in a rant about how James and Alec used the wrong room in an Italian diplomat’s house as a hiding spot and caused a major diplomatic snarl. The Italians never returned the confiscated technology,” Q explained as Tanner began to shuffle the cards. “Since Tanner won the _poker_ game, he got to choose the pub. Now he’s the dealer, and can’t play the poker game. Winner becomes the dealer and refrains from playing in order to give everyone else a chance to win.” Q tapped the table, frowning as he thought for a moment. “Did I miss anything?” he asked O’Reilly, who nodded.

O’Reilly then leaned forward, to look at Madeleine past Q. “Don’t ever tell Bond about this, he’ll be absolutely insufferable if he knew that he was popular enough to be an irritation even during off-duty hours for the rest of us,” he said as Tanner finished shuffling the cards, but left the stack untouched in front of him. “The game starts once Tanner starts dealing, and the name game only ends when someone slips up. So yes, _that_ game could continue into Monday if it has to,” he added, glancing around the table. “Now, any last remarks before we start?”

Madeleine tilted her head thoughtfully. “He really wasn’t exaggerating on the flight back to London when he said he was a general irritant to the MI6 departments,” she observed, smiling slight when Eve snorted.

“Madeleine, all nine of the double-ohs are general irritants to the MI6 departments. Bond just happens to truly _excel_ at being one,” O’Reilly replied as Tanner paused, hands poised to reach for the deck of cards. He glanced at the table. “Last call.”

Q, Madeleine, and Casey shook their heads, Eve waved a hand, Miller straightened in his chair, and Tanner picked up the deck.

“Very well, then,” O’Reilly said, gesturing to Tanner, who began to deal the cards.

Q leaned forward in his chair, aware he’d have to trip Tanner up early in order to avoid falling into the same trap as last time.

_I can do this, I can do this._


	2. Chapter 2

Q was so absorbed in the game that he didn’t see his mobile screen light up with an incoming text message.

Nor did he notice the two times the phone buzzed with incoming calls, one from R, the other from Marcela. All of his attention was split between the card game, Tanner, and his own words. The conversation around the table had started with desirable wedding locations, but then drifted to preferred vacation spots: Casey had mentioned a desire to go to Jamaica sometime towards the start of the summer, but Eve pointed out that the best vacation deals were in the autumn and besides, Nassau in the Bahamas was a more entertaining place to spend a week. Tanner, being the sneaky pain in Q’s arse that he was, carefully kept the conversation loosely tied to work, even going as far as to hint that MI6 ‘had run critical missions’ to both places in the past.

Q wasn’t stupid, he knew when Tanner was baiting him. Most, possibly even all, of the people at the table knew who had participated in ‘critical missions’ to the Caribbean in recent years, even if some of the ‘missions’ didn’t start out as such.

Madeleine was currently in the lead for the poker game, and Q suspected she played better than she let on. Bond had told him about the attempted gun lesson on the train bound for Blofeld’s base, and Q had seen the training instructor’s comments from Madeleine’s hand-to-hand combat skill assessment. At some point in the game, Missy had jumped onto Swann’s lap, watching the game with a visible level of disinterest until she fell asleep while Toby remained sprawled on his back in O’Reilly’s lap.

“All right ladies and gents, we need to stop betting so high when we’re only halfway through the game. My salary can only handle so much in one month,” Eve complained as Tanner pushed a few more bills into the center. “My landlord is still convinced that the broken window in my flat was all my fault, even though it was because Lee broke into the wrong flat last week. Turns out he’s got a lady friend in my building I didn’t know about,” she said as Q studied his cards.

“It might be that singer that lives on the twelfth floor,” Madeleine said, absently stroking Missy as she contemplated her own bid. “I saw them in the lobby together the other night.”

“And how, pray tell, did you know that there is a singer who lives on the twelfth floor?” Miller asked warily, eyeing first Madeleine, then Eve. “Is there really a singer who lives on the twelfth floor of your building?” he asked after a moment.

“Yup. And Miller, you work in espionage, you can figure out the answer to your own damn question,” Eve said, shrugging a shoulder as Miller frowned in confusion. “Although, while we’re on the subject of Nora, she’s the one hellbent on performing on Broadway, and I will happily pay for her airline ticket to New York City _myself_ if it means that she’ll stop practicing at three in the morning!”

“Are you sure you didn’t upset Lee recently?” Q asked, glancing at Eve.

Eve shrugged. “The only thing I can think of that could have upset Lee was that M took one hundred pounds out of his paycheck to supplement funds for the repair work on several Six company vehicles. M only did that keep the higher-ups from complaining that he gives too much leeway to the double-ohs,” she said, as Madeleine finally pushed forward a few bills of her own. “All I told Lee, when he asked, was that according to the mission logs, he engaged in needlessly reckless behavior and I really have no control over what M decided to do as punishment for disobedience during a hostage situation,” she explained, and Q frowned.

“I did talk to M about that. I advocated for no punishment since Lee was the only one, really, who had full awareness of the situation at the time and could determine the best way to act,” he said, raising a brow when Eve shook her head. “M completely disregarded what I said to him?”

Eve sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Q, but you’re not exactly popular at Whitehall right now. Mostly because of a combination between your infamous stubbornness when it comes to the double-ohs, and the fact that some of our politicians are _still_ hung up on the whole Silva affair,” she said, offering a sympathetic smile right before Q closed his eyes with a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He silently counted to ten, to regain control of his temper if anything. “Fine, the next time there is an egomaniac tearing through the government like nobody’s business, I’ll do everything to the letter as dictated by people we pay to sit behind desks and pretend that they know what they’re doing when it comes to espionage,” he said, giving Eve a thin smile.

Tanner snorted. “While we’re being honest here, I’d like to point out that there are other politicians who are afraid that _you_ will be the next egomaniac tearing through the government like nobody’s business,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “There _was_ a logical reason that we didn’t let you keep Blofeld’s cat,” he added, grinning when Q raised a brow and leaned an elbow on the table.

Then Q just pointed at Missy. “Don’t they know that I already own a cat?” he asked, tilting his head when he heard the familiar _snickt_ and creak of someone unlocking his own front door. “In fact, I own two cats,” he added, making a face as he heard the doorknob turn. “And Mark, do you know how bloody difficult it is to set up the spare key? Not to mention that I can’t even begin to tell you how bloody _late_ you are, Mr. I-Can’t-Make-It!” he demanded, the last part disappearing into a grumble under his breath as he leaned back to snag the nearest folding chair.

“Didn’t know I was invited.”

Q felt the blood drain from his face at the familiar dry voice, hand frozen with his fingertips touching the edge of the chair. O’Reilly confirmed his suspicions by covering his face with a hand and murmuring ‘Oh Jesus’ under his breath. Casey shrank in her chair, and Miller stiffened, startling Missy from her nap as his elbow knocked the table towards Madeleine by accident. Only Eve seemed unperturbed, studying her cards before she said, “Moral of the story, Q, is don’t become an egomaniac and tear through the government like nobody’s business.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind the next time I am summoned to Whitehall for another perceived offense,” Q countered as he felt a familiar pair of hands settle on his shoulder. He leaned his head back to look up into a pair of blue eyes he hadn’t seen in weeks. “Hello.”

Bond quirked a smile as he tilted his head, blue eyes lit with familiar warmth. “Hello yourself. Thought I’d come home and surprise you, but you weren’t in your office so I decided to skip Medical and come straight here. But it appears that you managed to surprise me instead,” he said, glancing up as though to survey the small group. Q recognized the beginnings of a smirk forming on Bond’s face as he looked back down at Q. “Conspiring against all allies of Her Majesty tonight? Should I be concerned about preparing a bit of interrogation later?” he asked, voice dropping an octave as he rubbed Q’s shoulders.

Q felt his face burn as Eve groaned. “More that we’re conspiring against all enemies our respective departments. And _maybe_ we can talk about tonight once we’ve finished the game and after our guests have left,” he replied, careful to keep his voice steady even as he returned his attention back to the game.

He heard Bond’s soft laughter, and smiled to himself when he felt Bond squeeze his shoulders. “I’ll leave the rest of you to it, then, I’ll be working on my apology note for losing the latest round of tech,” he said, leaning over to take a few pastry bites that remained on plate between Eve and Miller. Then he started to walk away, down the small hall towards the bedroom. Toby let out a chirrup, jumped out of O’Reilly’s lap, and then toddled after the agent.

Q sighed, turning back to his cards, almost ready to let the agent go so that they could finish the game in relative peace (there was no way that Bond wasn’t going to eavesdrop), when he caught sight of Tanner’s knowing smirk. Failure in the unspoken game was undoubtedly imminent, and Q suddenly foresaw another, insufferable three weeks of Tanner gloating at work. All it would take was one, easy slip, and he could tell from the shifting eyes of his companions that they knew it as well. Ignoring Tanner, Q tried to return to his attention to his cards as the others seemed to settle down. He was already contemplating his next move when Tanner suddenly cleared his throat. “Why don’t you come join us?” he asked, smirk playing around his mouth when Q glared at him. Q merely closed his eyes for a brief moment before turning around to Bond, who had paused in the hall.

Bond crooked an eyebrow in surprise. “Thought you were about done?” he remarked, carefully stepping around Toby before leaning against the doorframe.

“Doesn’t mean that you can’t join in the conversation, we were just discussing favorite vacation spots before we got onto the topic of why Whitehall doesn’t like Q,” Tanner said lightly, ignoring Casey’s faint squeak.

Bond shrugged as he pulled his coat off. “Let me put this away first, then I’ll come join you,” he said, casting a wary eye at Q, who merely smiled in response.

Q waited until Bond had already turned his back, and then pulled the empty chair to be in between him and O’Reilly. He looked up when Tanner cleared his throat. “Problem, Bill?” he asked mildly, suspecting that he already knew what Tanner was going to say.

Tanner smirked in his direction. “Rules still apply, Quartermaster.”

Q grinned with a confidence he did not quite feel. “That’s what I’m counting on,” he whispered back.

“Easy there, boys, you still have to work together on Monday,” Eve warned, looking up as Bond returned, the agent’s footfalls louder than what Q was used to hearing from him. “So how was Nicaragua?” she asked as Bond paused long enough to scoop Toby up from the floor.

“Had a blast, it was as lovely as can be expected,” Bond said lightly, sitting down beside Q with Toby tucked underneath his arm. “Still waiting to hear back from the consulate if I’m banned from the country for life or not,” he added, tilting his head when Q turned his cards for the agent to see.

Q sighed as Tanner chuckled, a headache already forming between his eyes. He opened his mouth to begin his response—a rehearsed lecture about bans affecting work performance—but caught his tongue the second he spotted Tanner’s expectant look from across the table. Swallowing back the first word, Q simply turned back to Bond. “Haven’t we already had this discussion about not upsetting allies, both inside and outside of the office?” he asked patiently, ignoring the slight frown that crossed Bond’s face at the lack of an exasperated direct address.

“Perhaps. Can’t remember for sure,” Bond said instead, and Q relaxed in his seat. Questions could wait for later. “Maybe you can refresh my memory after the game,” he murmured as Q caught the look of disappointment on Tanner’s face.

“Sounds like a plan,” Q agreed, watching with slight amusement as Tanner quickly smoothed his face over when Bond looked in his direction.

The ‘name game’ suddenly felt as though it had gotten a hell of a lot more difficult.

Conversation slowly resumed as Q changed the topic again, this time to vacation mishaps. He ignored the poker game, playing without focus (he was somewhat aware of Bond playing cards for him at one point), instead turning his attention to how he’d have to get through the next hour or so without tripping himself up. Not to mention he’d have to come up with some explanation for Bond: the agent definitely knew that there was something going on, Q could tell by the way Bond’s eyes never seemed to settle even though he was listening to Casey. Toby was curled up on Bond’s lap, tail flicking against his leg as the agent stroked the kitten. The soft tapping lulled Q’s nerves, and he realized that the only way to win was to trip Tanner up first. The Chief of Staff was being to careful not to mention Bond by name even though he was comparing notes on different agents with Madeleine. Nothing but a direct address would work at this point, and even then that would be unlikely…which meant that the game would continue even into Monday.

 _Unless_ …

Carefully, so Tanner couldn’t see, Q lowered his left hand and deliberately rested it near Bond’s knee, where there wasn’t a cat. He splayed his fingers and pressed his palm down to indicate the lack of immediate threat.

He knew Bond got the message when he felt the thigh muscle tense, then relax.

Then Q tapped ‘HELP’ in Morse code with his index finger.

To his credit, Bond didn’t visibly react at first. There was a momentary pause, and then the hand scratching Toby slid forward to cover Q’s. Without pausing in his own conversation with O’Reilly and Casey, Bond tapped ‘HOW’ on the back of Q’s hand.

Q paused, considering his response. Then he tapped ‘TANNER DIRECT ADDRESS YOU’, careful to spell out each word to avoid confusion.

‘WHY’

‘PRIDE’ Q didn’t elaborate further.

‘INCENTIVE’

Of course. Q suspected he was going to regret this later. ‘PROTOTYPE TEST’.

Bond squeezed his hand— _message received_ —before going back to scratching Toby again. Q let out a slow exhale, both stressed and relieved that the torment was almost over. All he had to do now was outlast Tanner. Somehow.

 _Damn_.

To distract himself, Q reached for the pastry bites, figuring that he couldn’t speak if his mouth was full. Before he could reach the plate, though, there was a faint thud before Tanner let out an abrupt, sharp yelp of pain and jumped in his chair. The table rattled, upsetting a few cards and chips from their stacks and eliciting a stifled shriek from Casey at the muffled _thump_ of Tanner’s knee hitting the bottom of the table. Q looked up in alarm only to meet Tanner’s angry glare. “What did I do _now_?” he asked, shrugging Bond’s hand off his shoulder when the agent reached up as though to reassure him.

“Don’t give me that, Q, you know _exactly_ what you did!” Tanner said irritably as he leaned forward, one hand holding the cards above the table as he reached down with the other to rub his leg. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you picked this table on purpose just so you could reach—”

“Dunno Bill, Q’s still wearing socks,” Casey interrupted as she leaned back in her seat to get a better look. “I’m sitting right next to you and I’m fairly convinced that I heard the moment that something hard connected with your shin,” she said, wincing in sympathy as Tanner’s face briefly contorted in pain. “ _Ouch,_ that’s going to be one hell of a bruise in the morning…”

“Just—let’s keep playing, I’ll live,” Tanner said curtly, narrowing his eyes at Q briefly before sliding his gaze to Bond, who wore an expression of polite disinterest. “And you, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it stops _now_ or God so help me, I will get you grounded as punishment,” he warned.

Miller snorted before scrunching his nose with irritation. “You are sadly mistaken if you think I will sign off on that order for that reason alone, he becomes an insufferable…situation when he’s grounded, not to mention that M would have our heads on plates for tying up his precious…talented people without a good reason,” Miller said, the last part disappearing into a mutter as he pushed a few chips into the pile in the middle. He gestured towards Tanner. “Now are you going to deal or not?”

Tanner muttered under his breath as he began to deal out the next round. Q leaned back in his chair as he waited for his cards, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bond resume stroking Toby as he turned back to O’Reilly. Q then glanced at Eve, and caught her raised brow. He leaned closer to her, and she scooted closer as well, Swann glancing between the two of them. “I didn’t kick him under the table, I was just going to get something to eat,” he whispered, gesturing to the plate to emphasize his points.

Eve snorted. “Q, I don’t think you kicked Tanner, but I also don’t think you’re completely innocent in all of this either,” she whispered back. “Your rivalry with Tanner in these games isn’t exactly a secret, and please _do_ remember that _I_ am the one who has to deal with him on Monday morning.” She scowled when Q blinked at her, and then growled, “In other words, please remember that there are others who suffer when—”

_Thump!_

Missy yowled and scrabbled her way off Madeleine’s lap when the table jolted again, the clicking of her claws on the bare floor barely audible under the sudden swearing from Tanner. “Will you knock it off already?” Tanner snapped as both Q and Eve straightened in their chairs. When Q looked at Tanner, however, the Chief of Staff was glaring at Bond, whose attention was solely fixed on O’Reilly as he told a story from his latest trip. O’Reilly was doing a masterful job of maintaining his composure as Tanner shifted his attention to Miller, snapping his fingers to get Miller’s attention. _‘Get his attention_ ’, Tanner mouthed, nodding to Bond as Miller stiffened in his seat.

‘ _Poke—him? Are you mad?’_ Miller mouthed back, shaking his head. Q slowly exhaled, but Tanner didn’t seem to catch the barely-avoided slip.

“Hey, listen. Do _not_ kick me again,” Tanner said through clenched teeth in Bond’s direction. He then grumbled something under his breath before reaching for his dropped cards again.

_Thump!_

Tanner slammed his hands on the table. “For God’s sake, Bond! _Knock it off!”_

Bond looked up then, amusement written across his face even as Casey began to laugh and Q did a silent victory punch into the air. “Why, Tanner. I had no idea I was kicking you under the table. You didn’t have to shout, you could have said something sooner,” Bond said with an innocent smile, which only brightened when Tanner scowled at him.

“And I’ll tell you what I want next time we all go out,” Q said, grinning without shame as Tanner shifted his glare to him. Q could hear Madeleine attempting to stifle her own laugh, but he didn’t look away from Tanner. “After all, we did agree earlier that the rules still stood,” he said, unable to resist speaking when Tanner narrowed his eyes at him.

For a moment, Tanner stood there, visibly bringing his temper back under control. Then he leaned forward and pointed at Q. “I don’t know how, Quartermaster, but somehow, I _know_ you just cheated. So when I find out, we can settle this dishonorable act during a lunch break,” he said, voice lightening slightly as he sat back down.

Q shrugged. “Depends if the bullpen is available when you find out, I’m looking into hiring a few people for R&D and Technical Services over the next few weeks. You know, namely those individuals that the CIA has been poking around in order to hire as overseas liaison officers. Theoretically of course, such knowledge would require a high level of clearance or weaseling it out of drunk undercover CIA agents,” he said, shrugging a shoulder as he studied his cards.

Tanner sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You do remember that M asked you to stop bothering the Americans, right?” he asked.

“May have forgotten.”

Eve cleared her throat, catching Q’s attention again. “All right boys, we now know who is buying, let’s find out where we’re going,” she said, gesturing to the pile of chips with one hand as she held her cards in the other. “Casey, it’s your turn.”

Q looked at his own cards, debating which one to play when he felt Bond lean against his shoulder. “My sixth sense is telling me that while I perfectly understood the conversation that just happened,” he murmured into Q’s ear, “I still completely missed reading the blank space between the lines.”

Shit. Q remained quiet for a few seconds. Then he said, “It’s nothing super-secret, we’re just trying not to complain about work.” He looked at Bond and shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing critical.”

The look that Bond wore on his face told Q he hadn’t been as quite as successful as he’d hoped in deflecting the agent’s interest, but it was enough for now. Instead, Bond asked, “What time do you need me to test prototypes?”

Q shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ll need to check the schedule for when R&D was planning to conduct the tests. Did you bring back any equipment from this last mission?” he asked, glancing at Bond.

Bond raised a brow. “What does your gut say?”

Q sighed, and then muttered back, “Touché.”

**Author's Note:**

> Randomly found this one floating around on my computer, and thought I had already posted it. Obviously, I had not *facepalm*
> 
> All characters and related media belong to Ian Fleming.
> 
> Enjoy!


End file.
